ToS Drabbles
by funkymoleperson
Summary: Drabble 4: A tale of a wayward father and a forgotten son. spoilers
1. Sacrifice

_Sacrifice_

The stone was cold. Her fingers brushed over it tentatively, then withdrew. It was hard as well, which would be expected of any stone. The dais was no different.

When she chanced to look again, she admired the delicate carvings that ran through the central platform and the statues erected on pillars at each of the four corners with symbols of the creatures of wind. The beauty was taken in in the briefest of glances, for she could not bear to hold it for longer.

There was an indentation on the other side, he'd said. She thought of walking around to look, but recoiled from the idea. If she took this all in at once, then what was really happening would hit her. She would not think about that now. She would not think about being a…

Sacrifice.

_Fin._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia.**

**Thoughts: I know that "sacrifice" is a theme that is commonly recognized as Colette's, but in this drabble it is Aisha's. Why? Because I wanted to show a different side. Not all the people of Sylvarant have the same courage and heart as the Chosen. Not all of them could face having to sacrifice their lives, ethics of it aside. **


	2. First Flight

_First Flight_

A flutter of wings and she's off, stumbling uncertainly upwards into the air; a fledgling in first flight.

The ground falls away and she flails her arms at first hint of falling. A flash of pink and gold is all she is to her friends down below her, but she can see anything and everything. Suddenly the world is open to her, this little angel of sixteen, and she cries out for joy, whirling and swooping, giggling the while and thinking to herself…

_Maybe it's worth it after all…_

_Fin._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia.**

**Thoughts: Colette is. Colette _is_. Another early-game drabble, one picturing both a happier and a graver thought – one of Colette experiencing flying for the first time with her new wings, and the other of the fate that awaits her at the end of the journey. And yet, she never stops smiling, does she?**


	3. Graves

_Graves_

His grave wasn't hard to find.

Not like some of the other, smaller ones, that seemed as numerous as flies in the sewer. No, _his_ had a very conspicuous gravestone, partially for it's size and partially for it's...flamboyance. But, that was him after all.

She hadn't been sure what to bring. A flower, a bouquet, perhaps plant a rose bush? But no, that was never _him_, at least, in the time she'd known him. And despite claiming to hate half-elves and that he really didn't care, she had already begun to doubt his words. He had an awkward kind of bravado, but she knew what it was like to put on an act.

Kneeling by his gravestone, she gave it a hopeless kind of hug - the kind of undignified one that she could give in the safety of knowing that he'd never see her doing so. Her spectacles slipped to the tip of her nose.

_"You know, Zelos, you didn't end up on the winning side after all..."_

_Fin._

**Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Symphonia.**

**Thoughts: It was meant to be Kate, but for some reason it turned out more like Raine. Maybe hinting at Raine/Zelos? Hmmm. **


	4. Fade

_Fade_

Looking out at the endless space before him, Kratos fooled himself that he could still see Sylvarant and the small village with the boy in red. He could still hear the precious word on the boy's lips as though it had just been spoken.

_"Dad."_

For one moment they had not been two companions that had traveled together on a journey of regeneration. For one moment in all those seventeen years the boy in red had been his son.

Being here on Kharlan could not be called living. Being an angel here on Kharlan could not be called living. Kratos did not consider himself alive, in that sense, so he thought of someone who was - who might have been - alive.

And while the face and name had faded long ago from his memory along with all the other things along the way, he knew that somewhere, sometime, there had been a boy in red. And, for one moment, the boy had been his son.

_This is the dead land  
This is cactus land  
Here the stone images  
Are raised, here they receive  
The supplication of a dead man's hand  
Under the twinkle of a fading star._

_Fin._

Thoughts: This drabble was an lj challenge from ages ago by Sabriel41. The challenge was: "So let's go with angels. Take your pick anyone with wings has to be a central image, whether the narrator or a major character. (Post-Game)"

The final bit is from a T. S. Eliot poem entitled "The Hollow Men".


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